


A Way With Words

by Swordy



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Chill XV, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Gladio has a big mouth, Ignis is not amused, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 10:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12130149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swordy/pseuds/Swordy
Summary: Gladio has been saying things. Ignis is a bit cross.





	A Way With Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sauronix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauronix/gifts).



Ignis is making the face.

They all know that face, and _why_ that face is something to be feared. It’s Prompto saying he’s looking forward to Iris’s cooking. Noct announcing that they’ve run out of coffee. A face that says, if he's pushed any further, Ignis will snap like a particularly brittle branch, wherein one of them will fall to their doom.

They’re in Lestallum, eating breakfast at the Tostwell Grill. They had an excellent day yesterday - increasing their coffers exponentially with a hunt and snapping some pictures for Vyv. They made enough for several meals, a room for each of them at The Leville if they so desired, and to gas up the Regalia, with still more to spare. It was a good day, therefore Ignis should not be making the face.

Prompto glances at Noct, trying to gauge if he’s responsible, but when Noct meets his gaze he looks equally bemused.

So Gladio then. It's no secret that the king’s two closest advisors have embarked on a romantic relationship recently, so presumably this sudden tension is pertaining to that.

This is confirmed by Gladio’s long, weary sigh as he places his menu back down on the table after he's finished studying it. Ignis does the same and then folds his arms so tightly across his chest it looks as if he's trying to perform the heimlich manoeuvre on himself. They're pissed with each other, that much is obvious, their gazes elsewhere - anywhere, but on each other.

Prompto glances at Noct again and shrugs helplessly. Noct makes a surreptitious _go on, say something_ gesture. Prompto shakes his head minutely and mouths, _you do it_. Noct rolls his eyes, and slaps his own menu down on the table.

“Okay, what's going on?”

Gladio opens his mouth to say something, but stops abruptly, silenced by Ignis’s stony expression. Ignis, for his part, hasn't so much as twitched. There's a possibility he's stopped breathing too, such is his terrifying level of control over his autonomic nervous system when he's mad. Noct turns his attention to Gladio, since he's apparently the only one who hasn't been carved out of a glacier.

“Gladio. What did you do?” he asks.

This animates Gladio, who throws his hands in the air and growls, “I didn't do anythin’!”

“You must have done _something_ ,” Noct reasons, glancing back at Ignis. The other man’s mouth is pressed into a thin line, lips almost white. Evidently he's waiting for Gladio’s response, too. Backed into a corner, Gladio rolls his eyes.

“We went for a few drinks last night. We were chattin’ to some of the women from the power plant. They were jokin’ around, sayin’ they could show me a good time. I told them I wasn't interested - you know, why go out for burgers when you've got steak at home, kinda thing?”

The Ignis-shaped glacier gives an indignant snort. “How delightful. Can I ask - do you have any metaphors that _don't_ refer to meat products, Gladio?”

“Oh, jeez,” Gladio mutters, covering his eyes and shaking his head, evidently finding himself stepping out of one fresh pile of chocobo turd and straight into another.

Noct looks at Prompto, who shrugs again since he's no clue what's going on either. “Guys? Little help here?”

Ignis sighs. “Gladio was expressing his opinion to the ladies of Lestallum, that I am a highly skilled lover.”

“Exactly!” Gladio cries, waving his arms again. “It was a compliment!”

Ignis arches an eyebrow in response. He makes an art form of this wordless communication. Right now, he's communicating that he'd cheerfully murder Gladio, if not for the fact that he'd almost certainly get stuck with the cleanup afterwards.

“I _believe_ , if my memory serves me correctly, you referred to me as ‘the best sausage jockey in all of Eos'.”

There's a moment’s processing, and a disbelieving look between his two querulous companions, before Noct lets out a loud bray of laughter that makes the couple on the next table jump. Prompto figures it's safe to follow suit, because if Ignis is going to murder him for finding this funny, he'll have to kill Noct too, and he's clearly not going to do that, since he’s pretty sure that's it's frowned upon for chamberlains to murder their charges.

“Oh, gods, _Gladio_ ,” Noct gasps between gulping breaths. “Were you born romantic, or did you have to work at it?”

It's difficult to hear Gladio's response over the fresh wave of uncontrollable laughter, but it's a safe bet to assume that the words ‘ _fuck off Noct_ ’ are in there somewhere. Gladio turns his helpless gaze on the man across the table from him, fully prepared for death by that penetrating green glare.

Ignis meets his eyes, but below that intense stare, there's a barely perceptible smile at the corner of his lips. The other two are oblivious, so this smile is obviously just for him. It holds the weight of many things: an amused yet grateful thank you for the poorly-worded compliment; a promise to maintain such high standards - and a threat, that Gladio hasn't seen anything yet.

He can't fucking _wait_.

  
**End**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the very lovely Sauronix, who is an absolute gift to the FFXV fandom. Thank you for all your talents, hon! I hope you've enjoyed this little gift. :)


End file.
